


Crossing the Blue Line

by erunamiryene



Series: Codex: Sartoris Legacy [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 17:46:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5384702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erunamiryene/pseuds/erunamiryene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kryn and Matthius know each other in passing, until he runs her over at the skating rink.  He offers to take her on a date for crushing her.  They don't make it out of the house.</p><p>(SWTOR AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossing the Blue Line

**Author's Note:**

> The hockey AU was supposed to be a short thing; that didn't happen. They were supposed to go on a date; that didn't happen, either. xD But I figure a Marr not shouldering the weight of 4+ decades of war and political leadership would probably be something of a cocky snot, which was quite fun to write.

[1]  
Kryn scowls, not for the first time, as the pack of animals masquerading as hockey players rampages past her again, yelling jokes and jostling each other and generally being complete assholes. "Ugh, can’t they practice, and I use that word _incredibly_ loosely, after I’m done? How am I supposed to concentrate while they work on their ‘skating circus monkeys’ routine?“ she mutters, tucking an errant strand of red hair back behind her ear.

The team captain, Matthius - a tall, muscular man with wavy ebony hair, sparkling green eyes, sinfully full lips, and a square jawline that is surely a violation of the Geneva Conventions … all of which is ruined by his personality, in Kryn's opinion - does a little spin as he skates past her, hands above his head and nose in the air. "What do you think, Andy, am I a cute figure skater?”

“The cutest! You just need a glittery little tutu!” Andy laughs.

Kryn entertains a brief fantasy where she sticks out her skate and sends that obnoxious jock ass over teakettle, preferably headfirst into the stands, before she resumes practicing. 

She’s caught up in Ravel’s _Boléro_ when the hockey team starts doing races around the rink, and doesn’t notice Matthius swerving out into her practice area, his brow furrowed in concentration as he tries to pass Pierce. Gliding back, leg extended in an arabesque, she’s just started her spin when the world goes topsy turvy as Matthius crashes directly into her and they plow into the board, limbs tangled.

“God damn it you fucking lummox, how fucking hard is it to watch where you’re fucking going?” Kryn groans from underneath Matthius, made even more irate by the uproarious laughter coming from the hockey players on the other side of the rink. She shoves at him. “Are you going to get off of me?”

He looks down at her, face full of concern. “I’m so sorry! Are you all right? I didn’t hit you with my skates, did I?”

“No, you didn’t, and no, I am not all right! If you haven’t noticed, I’m pinned underneath a, uh ….” She looks up at him, her mouth suddenly dry. _Oh my god, I did not know he smelled this good._ “Underneath a ….” _And look at that mouth. Fuck, why is he so good looking?_ She summons all her irritation. “Underneath a goddamn rocks-for-brains jock who can’t watch where the fuck he’s going!” she finishes with extra venom, angry that she’s even considering not being mad at him anymore.

An abashed smile curves his mouth. “I really am sorry. Pierce beats my ass every time we race, never lets me live it down, and all I saw was an opening to get past him, and then your leg was there and I couldn’t stop and … well, here we are.” He tries for charming, hoping to distract himself from noticing how much he likes the feel of her underneath him. _A boner is really going to ruin this apology. Keep it together, man._ “Did I mention it was a very nice leg?” _Fuck. Not helping._

She purses her lips, willing herself to stay angry, sighing when she can’t, not when he’s giving her that face with those sad eyes. “Ugh, just ... stop making that face at me, okay? And obviously, you owe me. You fucked up a perfect camel spin, you know.”

“I didn’t know that’s what it was, but I’ll remember from now on,” he says. “Can I take you to dinner, so that I may in some small way make up for my egregious misconduct?”

“As long as you don’t wear a glittery tutu,” she replies, winking. “Contrary to what your friend thinks, I don’t think it would be a good look for you at all.”

His laugh, deep and rich, bursts out of him with abandon. “I solemnly swear I will not wear a tutu, glittery or otherwise.” He grins widely, teeth white against his tanned skin, as he clambers to his feet and extends a hand to her. “I’m Matthius, by the way.”

“I know,” she says tartly as she takes it, eyes widening as he swiftly lifts her to her feet. “Could hardly miss it with how loud you guys are.”

He laughs again. “Fair enough.” After a pause, he nudges her. “Now see, this is the part where you tell me your name.”

Her hazel eyes sparkle. “Oh, is it? Is that how this ‘civilized person’ thing works?” She grins. “My name is Kryn.”

“Kryn,” he repeats, as though testing the feel of it in his mouth. “I like it." He checks his watch. "All right, it's four now, and I’m done with practice at six. Does seven work for you?”

“I suppose I can make room in my schedule tonight,” she muses. “What’s your number? I’ll text you my address.”

After he recites it, her fingers fly over the keys as she dashes off her message. “I’ll see you at seven, Matthius.” Before he can say anything else, she glides away, leaving him standing open-mouthed near the side of the rink.

[2]  
Kryn’s text notification chimes at 6:05 PM, as she’s standing in her closet scowling at her clothes. She pulls her phone out of her pocket, swiping her finger across the screen as she pulls a dress off the rack, her eyebrow rising when she sees it’s from Matthius.

_So do you like dressing up, or would you prefer something casual?_

_Dressing up, does that mean you’re going to wear your away game hockey jersey, rather than your practice one?_ She smirks to herself.

His response is surprisingly swift. _Shall I take that as the challenge it sounds like?_

She grins. _Absolutely._ Inspecting her selection of evening dresses, she taps the corner of her mouth, gaze returning to a teal silk she still hasn’t worn. Nodding to herself, she pulls it off the rack and drapes it over her arm.

_Better bring your A game, Princess. See you in 50 minutes._

She’s already looking at shoes. _I wake up bringing my A game, Jock. Don’t be late._

[3]  
She’s sliding her ID, credit card, and phone into a beaded clutch when her doorbell rings. Checking her watch, she raises an eyebrow. “Ten minutes early. Impressive.” After checking her makeup one last time in the small mirror hanging on the wall, she opens the door, her smartass comment dying in her mouth as she stares at him. He’s checking his shoe for scuff marks, light gleaming on his meticulously tousled hair, curls at the front more clearly defined. His shirt is brilliantly white against the jet black of the flawlessly tailored suit, the cufflinks and buttons black with gold detailing. He even has a pocket square, she notes with some astonishment.

He straightens and opens his mouth to say something, but trails off when he gets a good look at her. Her crimson hair, cascading down her back in a riot of curls, is a vivid contrast to the figure-hugging teal dress. _How is this dress more of a turn-on than that little bitty skating outfit?_ The crystal detailing on the cutout bodice twinkles under the lights, and the chiffon silk skirt flows like water with each move she makes, revealing an occasional glimpse of a leg bared from mid-thigh to ankle. Taking a deep breath, he proffers a small bouquet of bright mixed blooms, complete with card. “Cliche, I know, but it works in movies, right?” he says, grinning.

Smiling, she takes them, pulse jumping as her fingers brush against his. “These are lovely. Come in while I put them in water?” She turns away from the door, swiftly crossing the living room toward the kitchen, and misses how his mouth falls open when he sees the completely open back of her dress.

He closes the door behind him, looking around the living room. Bookshelves, crowded with books of all colors and sizes, line nearly all the open wall space. Her black couch is oversized and overstuffed, liberally decorated with a rainbow assortment of cozy-looking throw pillows. A tall stack of books, all with bookmarks sticking out of them, sits precariously on the coffee table. A desk at the window holds a large monitor, a printer, a haphazard stack of CDs, and a small selection of games.

The kitchen is only separated from the living room by a long counter, and she watches him inspect books as she fills up a vase and arranges the flowers in it, placing it on the table in the breakfast nook. She pulls out the envelope and opens it, impressed at the neat copperplate print covering the small card.

 _K,_  
_Apologies for being, as you so colorfully put it, a goddamn lummox. But not too many apologies, since otherwise tonight likely wouldn’t be happening._  
_M._

Taken aback by the butterflies exploding in her chest, she thinks about how much she wants to see that suit strewn across her bedroom floor and has to take a deep breath and shake her head before she can actually speak to him. “I don’t have a lot of books for jocks,” she teases, fingers tightening on her clutch as she catches a whiff of his cologne when she stops next to him. “We might at the shop, though.” A brief, tentative pause. "You could always come check."

"I might do that. I also don’t have this translation of the Tao Te Ching, and I still need to read these two David Hackworth books,” he says as he taps three different books on a shelf. “I read About Face in school, though.”

Kryn raises an eyebrow. “You read that in _school_?”

“Military school,” Matthius says with a grin. “I was kind of a shit when I was younger. Dad figured a disciplined, regimented existence would do me good, especially with how often he was gone.” He checks his watch. “I made the reservations for eight o’clock. Shall we go?”

He extends his arm and she takes it, but she stops as he opens the front door. He looks at her in confusion. “Kryn?”

Her clutch falls to the floor as she grabs the lapels of his jacket and pulls him closer, going on tiptoes but still not quite able to reach him. “Damn my being short,” she growls, looking up at him. “It ruins the best moments.”

He slides an arm around her waist, his hand warm on the bare skin of her back. “I wouldn’t say it’s ruined,” he murmurs as he bends to meet her upturned mouth. He kicks the door closed and she backs him into it, her hands cupping his face. Her fingertips skim across his cheekbones before she threads them into his hair, her mouth never leaving his, and he can’t quite stifle his groan as she catches his lower lip between her teeth, the gentle pressure inflaming the heat already pooling in his belly. 

He’s warm and solid, and she can feel the muscles in his arms flex as his arm tightens around her, his free hand sinking into her hair, and it takes every ounce of her willpower to not simply pull him toward the stairs and her bedroom. His lips are surprisingly soft, parting willingly as her tongue seeks out his own, and she feels him stir against her leg when her quiet moan vibrates against his mouth.

She finally takes a step back, breathing hard, the fire in her eyes mirrored in his. “All right, see, I’ve been thinking about that since you landed on top of me this afternoon and really didn’t want to wait, you know, just in case this date goes poorly, but if we don't stop now, we're not leaving.” She grins. “I _really_ hope this goes well. Let’s just say that.”

His grin matches hers. “So do I. That’s a good start, right?”

“You know, we could just … skip dinner." She winks at him.

He gives her a deliberate once-over, then brushes her hair back behind her ear. "Fuck it, I'm not hungry anyway."

"Me either." Hazel eyes hot, her fingers close around the ends of his perfectly tied bow tie, and a smile curves his mouth as she pulls on it, dropping the now-loose ends against his shirt. She slides his jacket off his shoulders, watches it fall to the floor, and then goes to work on his shirt buttons, splaying her hands across his chest when the shirt falls open, face alight like a kid in a candy store.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, “ _finally_.” She swipes the pad of her thumb across one nipple, eyes lighting up as he hisses a breath through his teeth. "Well, well,“ she muses. She leans forward and drags the tip of her tongue around it. "Mm, is that better?” 

His only response is an unintelligible noise in the back of his throat as she, without waiting for a real answer, moves to the other.

She leaves warm, wet kisses, faintly outlined in lipstick, down the center of his torso, finally dropping to her knees as nimble fingers make short work of his belt buckle and the fly on his pants. He leans back against the door, burying his hands in her hair as she dips her fingertips into the elastic of his boxer briefs, sliding both underwear and trousers down past his ass, gaze hungry as his cock springs free. She circles her thumb and forefinger around the base, threading her fingers through the black curls around it.

“Kryn, you -”

“Shhh, I’ve been thinking about this all afternoon,” she murmurs, “and I have to get my mouth on you. Like, right now.” He gasps, forgetting what he wants to say as she closes her mouth around him, and she withdraws. "Should I stop?“ She looks up at him from under her lashes as she flicks her tongue across the tip.

"Jesus, _no_.” He bites his lip as he watches her mouth engulf him again and again, nearly groaning with the effort required to hold still, unable to look away each time she pulls back, her cheeks hollowing and her eyes not leaving his face. 

She sinks her nails into his ass, pulling him toward her, but stops as he brushes against her lips. "Matthius.“ Her breath is cool against his glistening cock.

He swallows hard. "Yes?”

“Fuck my mouth.” Her voice is wanton, laden with desire, and as her lips close around him, he can’t stop his hips from bucking, her name almost a prayer as she takes his length. 

The pressure is building with each stroke, he can feel it becoming unbearable, and he finally pushes her back, shaking with how badly he wants to watch her swallow every last drop. "Fucking _hell_ , Kryn,“ he groans, "not in the first fifteen minutes, that’s the kind of shit guys pull when they’re seventeen, not thirty.”

She sits back on her heels and pouts, then drags a finger along her lower lip, watching him steadily. "We have all night, you know. Unless you have somewhere better to be.“

He doesn’t argue, doesn’t stop her when she slides her mouth over him, all velvet softness and wet heat, her fingernails gently scraping along his hipbones. Her needy moan vibrates around him and his hands tighten in her hair as he thrusts into her. "Kr- I … you … oh, _fuck_!” His knees go weak as he comes, watching her throat work as she takes it all, and he slumps against the door, his breathing ragged. He holds out his hand to her, hauls her to her feet when she takes it, and kisses her hard. "I ….“ He inhales deeply, blows it out, grasps at a fleeting semblance of equilibrium. "Holy shit. My turn, yes?”

She lifts the tie from around his neck and dangles it from one finger, hand on her cocked hip as she watches him pull his trousers back over the taut curve of his ass. "You should use this. I mean, if you're into that sort of thing, Jock."

"You really get me, Princess. I like how you think." He takes it, grinning. "Hold out your hands?" She does, and he wraps the tie around her wrists. "Too tight?"

She pulls on the silk, easily removing one hand. "Pfft. Tighter."

He wraps it around her again, snug against her wrists. "Finally, that stupid knot class is proving useful." He slips the silk back enough to press his lips first to one wrist, then the other, smiling as her pulse jumps.

Circling behind her, he ghosts his palms from the curve of her neck to her shoulders, sliding off the straps of her dress. He makes quick work of the zipper at the small of her back, leaning forward to cup her breasts before he goes to remove the dress completely. He sighs when he realizes what he's done. "Aw, shit."

She laughs outright. "And you did such a good job on that knot, too."

He's nearly scowling as he unties her, and she can't resist grabbing his chin and pulling him down for a kiss. "Don't look so mad." She does a little wiggle, the dress sliding off her hips and into a teal puddle on the white carpet, and she strikes a pose, clad in just a lacy violet thong. "Look, now all of this is ready and waiting for you."

"Hmm, better," he murmurs, running a finger along the swell of her hips. "Much better." The vulnerability and sweetness from earlier is gone, replaced by a surprising dominant streak, and his eyes flash as he holds out the strip of silk again. "Hands."

A slow smile spreads across her face as she holds them out. "Here you go." She eyes him, biting the inside of her lip as she takes in takes in how his suit is in disarray, shirt hanging open, pants unfastened. "But look at how much clothing you're wearing. It's really a shame."

"Once I let you go, we'll have to fix that," he says, wrapping his hands around her waist and walking her backward. "But right now, I believe I owe you?"

She bumps into the couch and abruptly sits, watching him as he drops to his knees between her legs. He drags a finger along her calf, following it with slow, lingering kisses from ankle to mid-thigh. As he repeats this on the other side, she’s cursing her honesty and trying to work a hand loose from the tie, suddenly desperate to touch him.

“Ah ah,” he says, shaking his head. “If you get loose, I’ll have to stop.” He’s less than an inch from her, hands wrapped around her thighs. “And we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“I … no,” she finally says, stilling her hands with great effort. “By all means, please continue.”

His green eyes sparkle, never leaving her face as he draws closer. She bites her lip when he stops again, close enough for his breath to be hot on her skin.

“Mm,” he says, “maybe this is a little quick. You’re not quite ....” He stands, seats himself on her lap, lifts her hair aside and catches the edge of her ear between his teeth. “I want to hear you beg me to make you come, Princess,” he whispers, voice low and rumbling, smile on his lips.

“You’re going to be waiting a long goddamn time, Jock,” she says, sure of herself.

“I do love a challenge.” He presses a gentle kiss first to one temple, then the other. "Perhaps I'll work my way down." Fingers trail along her jaw as he drops kisses, feather light, on her cheekbones, the end of her nose, and the corners of her mouth, smiling when she angles her head to kiss him more fully. He tilts his head and kisses one side of her jawline, then the other, and stops just before his lips touch hers. "Kryn."

She balls her bound hands into fists as she resists leaning forward to close that gap. "Matthius."

Her eyes are fixed on his, her heart pounding and warmth pooling low in her stomach, and he forgets whatever flippant thing he'd wanted to say as he stares at her. "You're beautiful," he murmurs, breath warm against her mouth as he cups her face in his hands, his skin warm on hers, callused fingers gentle on her cheeks. He kisses her once, quick and gentle. "You're such a smartass." Another. "You take my breath away." A third, but this one is longer, deeper, leaving them both slightly breathless as they pull apart.

Mischief twinkles in his eyes. "I can't wait to hear my name in your mouth," he says before he presses his lips to the hollow at her throat, as though he needs to taste every inch of her skin. "I can't wait to feel you shake each time I touch you." A nip at her collarbone. "I can't wait to taste you on my tongue." He kisses the swell of one breast before pulling the flat of his tongue across her pebbled nipple, pleased when she arches her back, unintelligible syllables falling from her mouth. 

He moves to the other, shows it the same attention, then trails down her torso, easing backward off her lap and onto the floor. "I can't wait to hear each shrieky gasp." He showers kisses along each of her hipbones, then along her inner thighs. "I can't wait to watch the flush spread across your flawless skin." Two kisses planted on each side of her, smile curving his lips at her anguished moan. "I can't wait to watch your control crumble." He looks up at her. "Do you want it, Kryn?"

She very briefly contemplates saying no, but even her flippancy has its limits. " _Yes_. God, yes.”

She jumps as he lowers his head to her, tracing ever-quickening circles around her clit. “I - I ... oh my god,” she mumbles under her breath, hips rolling in concert with his tongue. Her bound hands grasp for purchase on the back of the couch, her moan rising in pitch as she spreads her legs wider. She's been aching for this since their first kiss, and it's only through sheer force of will that she hasn't already abandoned herself to this rising tide of shouting, clamoring need.

He pulls back, sliding first one, then two, fingers into her. “You're so tense. Relax.” He leans forward again, resuming his ministrations, his eyes locked on hers. She bites her lip, remaining silent, and he retreats again, just far enough to speak, his thumb taking the place of his mouth. “Scream my name, Princess.”

He bends his head, determined to shatter her discipline, aroused by her every twitch and shudder. Her next gasp is half-scream and she buries her hands in his hair, fingers closing around the black strands, arching her back. “Oh _fuck_ , oh god, goddamn, Matthius!” She rocks helplessly against him, words failing her as she surrenders to a toe-curling orgasm, warmth spilling down her legs and his chin.

A wide smile splits his face, teeth gleaming as she slumps back down on the couch. “You screamed my name.”

“You did a good job,” she rasps, still out of breath. She raises an eyebrow and licks her lips when he he stands and she sees he’s hard again. “How about you untie me, and we’ll go fuck properly now that the foreplay’s out of the way?” 

He helps her to her feet, then swiftly removes the tie around her wrists. She takes a step and wobbles, squeaking with surprise and wrapping her legs around his waist when he lifts her up. She snatches his shirt and yanks herself against him, kissing him with enough force that their teeth clack together, tasting herself on his tongue. “Upstairs. I want you naked and in my bed, Jock.”

He's heading for the stairs before she finishes talking. “No place I'd rather be, Princess.”


End file.
